Kanday
by The Magician's Niece
Summary: Daniel Smith and Kayleigh are two lovers, unknowingly chasing each other through time to finally be together. Loosely based on Dan Smith from the band Bastille. /updates coming soon/


"Kayleigh Woodley, wake yourself up!" screamed yet another teacher in my face. Today is just one more Monday morning.

As a College student, life doesn't make sense, and in my view everything is a waste of time; especially school. The drab, hospital green corridors welcome me for yet another day, as they have done for the past year and a half, and once more I wonder why I'm here. After Secondary School, A Levels had seemed the only option, and they still are and always will be until something better comes up. At this rate, I'll be re-taking exams until kingdom come.

Some people have dreams, other people have career paths. Me? I have nothing. The only thing I have going for me is English class, and by English class I mean my incredibly attractive English teacher. Mr Smith is clean out of University with the clearest blue eyes in the world and the largest English Literature class this college has ever known, unsurprisingly mainly compiled of females.

Thankfully, English Lit is my first lesson of the week; two hours of pure bliss. This subject has been in my list of favourites as far back as I can remember, but as my understanding of Shakespeare has declined, I have other reasons for attending lessons. His first name, according to rumour, is Daniel, but that is the most anyone knows of him; he's mysterious, and that's part of his allure. My seat is furthest away from the teacher's desk as usual, even Mr Daniel Smith cannot change that about me, and although the start of each lesson sees the girls at the top of the perceived social hierarchy scrambling for seats on the front desks, I know those blue eyes will not notice the staring girl at the back. I am free to stare as often as I please.

Halfway through the lesson, I am bent over my work with my hair dropping in a curtain over my book, when I feel a shadow cover me. Looking up, I see a certain pair of eyes making contact with mine, coupled with two marvellously chiselled cheekbones and a pair of perfectly formed lips.

"Everything okay, Kayleigh?" his South London accent probes as I nod. A section of dark brown hair falls in front of his eyes, and he runs it back to place with his fingers, "I was just checking that you're still coming along to help with the drama rehearsals tonight? I've had a few people cancel on me, and we really need all of the help we can get."

A knowing look flickers across my eyes; I am not in the least bit surprised. Too many girls involve themselves in college events just to impress Mr Smith, and end up disappointing him by discovering very little personal interest in the subject involved. For me, however, the annual drama show is my favourite thing about this place, so I flash a warm smile and assure him that I will indeed be there tonight. Acting would not be up there on my list of strong points, but I can direct and prove very useful in helping the cast learn lines; probably the only thing I am good at in this world.

The day draws to a slow yet steady halt as I make my way to the back of the auditorium after drama rehearsals, ready to slowly trudge to the bus stop and wait out the long journey home. Just as I am about to pass through the double doors, a cry echoes around the hall; apparently I am not the last one out. Dropping everything, I jog through the seats to the stage.

"Everything alright?" I shout in the general direction of the cry.

"Is someone there?" my reply comes back, "could you come and help me?"

Hopping up onto the stage, I move between props and scenery, searching for Mr Smith. Of course, it had to be me stuck in a darkened theatre with him. When I find him, he is sat on a wooden crate, head in hands.

"Having a hard day, Sir?" I perch on a neighbouring crate, smiling.

"Just about, I wasn't quite aware of how incapable I am today, I'm afraid," he matched my grin, lifting his head, "Want to help me move these stupid things?"

We take a side of the boxes each and slide them into the wings, followed by the heavy backdrops and wooden scenery. I notice a small plastic water pistol lying on the floor, and toss it in the air, catching it and aimlessly pulling the trigger before throwing it into an open crate of props. Another cry bounces around the walls, and I turn to see Mr Smith with a patch of water on his sky blue shirt, my hands flying to my mouth.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I had no idea it was loaded, I honestly didn't mean to…" I begin, biting the inside of my cheek. He stares at me intensely for two long seconds, before allowing laughter to escape from his beautiful lips, laughter lines showing around his eyes.

"Don't you worry, it's perfectly alright. Now, I think we should give up for today. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to go home!"

My face must have dropped, because his mirrors accordingly and he asks what the matter is. I tell him my predicament; my bus comes every hour and a half and I still have an hour to wait for the next one.

"Oh dear," he sighs, "this is my entire fault. I'll take you home, don't worry"

"No really, it's fin-" I start, but he interrupts and insists as long as I don't mind waiting whilst he picks a friend up. I don't.

Pulling up to the local Mac Donald's joint with my English Literature teacher feels slightly surreal to begin with, but the entire situation improves when a bag of chips and a Coke is placed in front of me, as apparently the mystery friend is late. I discover that sitting across the table from that gorgeous pair of blue eyes feels like the most natural thing in the world, and I allow myself to answer his questions properly, opening up to him and trying to probe him for answers to my questions, although he is much less obliging than myself. I cannot avoid the knowledge that the mystery of Mr Daniel Smith remains as such, and I for one am not going to budge it.

Finally, his eyes stop boring holes into my soul and glance up at the door, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he stands. Turning, I see a woman walk towards us, just shorter than him wearing a business suit and allowing her waist-length hair to sit naturally for what looks like the first time today. Walking up to her, he takes her in his arms and kisses her, obviously completely allowing his secretive façade to fall for a moment.

"Anne, meet Kayleigh," he motions to both of us in turn, "Kayleigh, this is my fiancée Anne"

* * *

I wake to the sunlight barely showing through my window; the crack of dawn, as usual. Rolling out of bed, I pick the usual pieces of straw out of my hair from the mattress and swing the bucket labelled 'Kaylee' from the floor on my way down to the river to collect water for this morning's breakfast. There is never any time for rest as a stable girl.


End file.
